


circumplex

by valediction



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, endgame spoilers, failed timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 12:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2308958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valediction/pseuds/valediction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin isn't only Robin anymore these days, but they know it. They know it, but that means that they're still Robin in at least some way, and by Naga they'll try to make every last bit of Robin left count. It won't have to be for much longer, anyway, if they only can succeed in this one thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	circumplex

**Author's Note:**

> what a drabble to step onto AO3 with
> 
> I've been sitting on this for a while trying to type up the rest of the work it's supposed to be a part of- but you know this works fine enough on its own too. haha.

And Grima rumbles, a flicker at the back of their mind, I can help. You are clever, but you don't know what you're doing... Yet, Grima adds, after a contemplative pause. There is something like an amused certainty in the dragon's tone. 

But Robin ignores it and presses on in their task, heedless of the dragon's foreboding, knowing premonition. What the dragon thinks or knows doesn't matter. They are not yet the same. They will never be the same, if Robin can help it. And Robin is close. Surely, this must work. It will work, and Lucina and the children will be spared from having to carry the fate of the world on their shoulders.

(Robin does not know what has become of Morgan.)

It is half instinct and half intuition that guides them as they follow the instructions laid out for them by the faint memory of a future past. It does not matter where the memory came from. They are not bound by fate, so if anything from that future can be turned against it, twisted to fight, to resist, Robin will take it and use it.

Once they would have balked at anything having to do with the blood that runs in their veins. But others have sacrificed more than their peace of mind to the fate of the world, and Robin no longer can allow fear to rule their judgment. Their fate is not set in stone, and this is only the least of what they can sacrifice.

Surely, this must work.

It is hours later when Robin finishes with what they set out to do, but it could have been days or even months for all that it mattered to them, locked away in the depths of the Dragon's Table as they are, where the air is stale and dead and the sun does not reach. They have pieced together everything they can. This is as much as they can do. This is the best they can do. All that is left...

When Chrom opens his eyes, Robin forgets to breathe. There is a disquieting blankness, at first, enough chance to doubt— and then there is intelligence, as confusion sets in only to clear in realization when their eyes meet.

"Robin?"

Robin breathes out in something that approaches, but doesn't quite manage to be relief. "Chrom. I wasn't sure... I thought that I might have..." And their body shrugs, helplessly. The bodies of Risen and fanatic Grimleal both that lie around them tell the tale on their own. 

The king looks slowly around at their surroundings to take them in—Robin's a little surprised at how easily he does it, given that it took them a little while to get accustomed to the soft glow of magelight—before giving the tactician a slow smile. "You're Robin. You would have figured it out."

"I suppose so," Robin agrees absently. Chrom has always had too much confidence in them; it's a worrying trait they never did manage to cure the former prince of. Still, they missed this. The dragon is quiet, practically absent, perhaps due to the presence of one of its opposite's chosen. For a moment, it's almost easy to pretend that the events Validar set in motion never happened.

Robin hopes Chrom has enough confidence in Robin's choice now to see it through to its end.

"Suppose so?" Chrom snorts. "This, coming from the one who managed to turn the tides of not one, but two wars. You should believe in your accomplishments for once. What you _can_ continue to accomplish."

...Robin's fingers tighten around the spine of their Nosferatu tome. Chrom has an easygoing manner about him, even now, and it makes them almost regret what they have to tell him. They'd forgotten how it was like. "About that..." The prince's posture snaps more upright at the tone of Robin's voice, face growing sober. Good, then he probably knows the gravity of the situation. It makes it easier, and they start, tone deliberately light, "I didn't bring you here just to catch up. You must remember what happened- before. Well." For all that, they still can't bring themselves to say it.

The king's expression darkens. "All that matters," he insists, "is that you got away safely."

"Well," Robin says, "I got away."

"But you're fine now," Chrom presses, looking concerned.

Robin chokes on the half-formed laugh. "No," they breathe. "No, I-" Robin shakes their head and tries again. "Chrom. I need you to..." they start, before stopping at the look on Chrom's face.

It's _concern_ , yes, intent scrutiny and worry in case there's indeed something wrong with his closest friend. But there's also something strange in his eyes, something fierce, a fervent devotion that wasn't like that before. 

...No, that can't be right. 

"Chrom, please. I'm asking you to... No. You have to know what needs to be done." Robin lets out a breath, fights back the doubts that have suddenly arisen. Of course, Grima wouldn't want its existence to be ended. Robin does their best to sound as confident, as certain as they can, drawing strength from better years even though their conviction now is surely a shade of what it once was. "Even if you don't believe it, then please, believe in me. 

"Chrom, you need to kill me." They rush on, emboldened by how close they might be to success. "I have the Emblem and Stones. We have everything. All you need to do is receive Naga's blessing and—"

"No."

Robin's eyes snap open. "What? Chrom," they say, fighting back another flicker of dread. "What reservations you had before- It's too late now. You have to-"

"I said no," Chrom says, his sword planted firmly in the earth. "I won't. I can't do that to you, Robin."

The words are right, but the tone is wrong.

There has been something wrong with this meeting all along, and Robin looks now, really looks, with wide red eyes through pale hair that their flesh is rapidly growing to resemble. 

What Chrom says is Robin, but what it sounds like, now that Robin can see clearly, is _Master._ They both have seen that kind of loyalty before, that utter dedication.

"No," Robin chokes at the realization, falling back in horror. They clutch at their tome with dread; a tendril of dark magic curls, snaps out around them and sets both their worn cloaks to flapping before it's snuffed by Robin forcibly tamping down on their magic. "No, this isn't right— this is all wrong. This wasn't meant to-"

"Robin. Stop. Please calm down," Chrom says, with a hint of desperate urgency to it. "We've gone over this before. There's no way I'm killing you."

No. That's wrong. The words are right, but Chrom should have no trouble asserting his authority when he needs to. He shouldn't plead as if he has no say in the matter. He always has a say, he always said that there was, would be another way. He always had.

"It's okay," Chrom says. "You'll be fine. I know things are a bit different, but we'll get through this. Together, like we always have."

Robin only stares at the former prince in front of them, denying what they've done to the depths of their being even though they _know_ ; something in their blood roars in self-satisfied triumph and exults in this victory.

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys about that time loop idea
> 
> also deadlords. guess who was doing infinite regalia. guess who went through future past. guess who decided outrealms were a fantastic idea.
> 
> this was meant to be part of a larger one shot about just what, exactly, awakening grima would have entailed for the tactician- because just plain old "got your body!" is just too vanilla, yeah? yeah B)b but no seriously the tactician is so blase sometimes. it's great. imagine not-grima with a sense of humor. then again anything's better than the equivalent of spookily chanting "become one" and expecting it to work because it... somehow did in the future. past.
> 
> haha sob


End file.
